


Mission: Mister Congeniality

by roe87



Series: A Working Relationship (Battle Husbands) [5]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bucky in a dress, Canon-Typical Violence, Drag Queens, Established Relationship, Feminization, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Humor, Implied Bottom Bucky Barnes, M/M, Missions, Nomad Steve Rogers, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Stiletto Heels, Undercover Missions, drag queen Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 08:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18988546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: Someone has to go undercover at a drag queen's beauty pageant, and the team nominate Bucky to be their queen.





	Mission: Mister Congeniality

 

 

Bucky had a face mask on, with cucumber slices over his eyes, enjoying a few quiet minutes sitting on the couch in the safehouse with his feet up.

He had his phone charging over on the coffee table, currently attached to the mini speaker and playing his chillout playlist.

Then Bucky's phone beeped with an incoming message: three beeps, so he knew it would be a mission.

Bucky didn't move a muscle.

If he just stayed where he was, hopefully someone else would pick it up.

The phone beeped again. Bucky remained still.

"Hey, Buck," Steve's voice called from the other room. "New mission just came in."

Bucky groaned inwardly, and didn't reply.

"It's an Intel gather for later tonight," Steve said, walking into the room. Bucky lifted one cucumber slice so he could eyeball his boyfriend.

"It's my day off, Steve," he pointed out.

Steve grinned in response. "Says here it's at a gay event, and you'll have a bar tab for free drinks."

Bucky removed both cucumber slices and sat up. "Tell me more."

"It says..." Steve examined his phone screen as he perched on the armrest of the couch. "Mister Congeniality needed for Intel gather backstage at tonight's event, a charity gala for LGBT benefit. There's a possible bomb threat by an anti gay terrorist group. Pretty low leagues, but if the bomb is real that's a lot of LGBT people they'll hurt."

Bucky sighed. "Alright, I'm in. What the fuck is Mister Congeniality, anyway?"

Steve bit his lip, clearly trying to keep a straight face as he read through the email. "Um, well. It says here it's kind of like a beauty pageant."

"For men?" Bucky guessed.

Steve's mouth screwed up tight as he fought back a laugh. "No," he managed, then looked at Bucky with a twinkle in his eye. "But I agree with Nat, I think you're _perfect_ for this mission."

Bucky gave Steve a flat look in response, and held out his hand. "Let me see."

Steve handed over the phone, and Bucky flicked through the mission email. "Gay rights, yes, Intel, okay..." His eyes landed on the words _drag queen pageant_ , and he had to re-read the sentence a couple times before it sank in.

"Drag queen? So... I gotta wear a dress?"

"Looks that way," Steve said. "But you'll have a whole style team to help you."

Bucky took offence to that. "Excuse you, I don't need help styling anything. I'm the most stylish white man on this team."

"But this is like, wig dressing, make-up," Steve counted off on his fingers, "walking in high heels, and, um. Tucking."

"Tucking? What is... No," Bucky said, "don't tell me, I don't wanna know."

 

 

~

 

 

Tucking was... an experience.

Bucky had to wear these little hotpants, hitch them up and back so all his junk was, well. Tucked back between his legs.

Then came the gaffa tape.

"I think I'm gonna cry," Bucky complained, as Natasha and Clint helped tape him up, then instructed him to pull on padded pantyhose.

"I don't need padding," he muttered, yanking the hose up his legs. "I have a fantastic ass already."

"It's supposed to look hourglass," Clint told him, wiggling one padded ass cheek into the right place. " _Exaggerated_ hourglass." He started wiggling the other pad next.

Bucky stood there and heaved a long suffering sigh.

"It'll look great with the dress on," Nat assured him.

"How the fuck will I pee," Bucky asked, as a cincher was strapped around his waist next. He grunted as Clint and Nat yanked it tight and laced him in. "Scratch that, how will I _breathe_."

"Quit whining," Nat told him. "All you have to do is get backstage and find out where the bomb is."

"Assuming I can walk, breathe or speak in this get-up," Bucky said.

Next was a pair of rubbery boobs to strap over his chest, which was actually kind of fun and Bucky couldn't resist a quick grope.

"Lemme snap a pic for Steve," he said, whipping out his phone to take a selfie. Nat and Clint leaned in for the shot, each of them grabbing one of his boobs and grinning for the camera.

Bucky snapped it and quickly added a caption to send to Steve. _Wish you were here?_

"Dress," Nat instructed, helping Bucky into a red evening gown. At least there was a slit up the leg, so he'd be able to move.

Nat zipped him into the dress, and Clint brought out an enormous brown highlighted wig.

"I could stash weapons inside this," Bucky commented, as Clint set the wig on his head and yanked it into place. "Ouch."

"Sorry, garter weapons only," Nat said, crouching down at Bucky's feet with two lacy garters: one holding a knife, the other a small dart gun. Bucky couldn't bend down right now in his cincher, so he stepped into the garters and let Nat pull them up his legs for him.

"Or you could use the stilettos shoes," Clint teased. "Eight inch heels would do some damage."

"Noted," Bucky said. His make-up was mostly done already, he just needed the lipstick and some contouring. Whatever the fuck that was.

Clint was in charge of make-up and wig styling, so all Bucky had to do was stay still with his eyes closed, and let Clint beat his face with a brush, then poke and prod his wig with a comb and hairspray the whole lot.

Bucky coughed a bit, waving his hand to get the fumes away. He had the image simulator running for his metal arm, so it looked like pale skin for tonight. "I need evening gloves," he said. "It'll complete the look. And some pearls too."

"One pearl necklace coming right up," Natasha said with a grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm a classy dame."

Nat and Clint both snort-laughed. "Sure you are," Clint drawled.

"How dare you," Bucky said, as they dressed him in long red gloves to match the dress, and several strings of large white pearls around his neck.

"You're ready," Nat announced, bending down again to help Bucky into his platform shoes.

"This is the bomb defuser," Clint said, and slipped a heavy corsage onto Bucky's wrist. "When you find the bomb, just take this off and set it on the bomb, and it'll auto defuse it."

"Nice." Bucky nodded. "Less work for me."

"The backstage area is mostly underground," Nat explained, as she got up and put an earpiece into Bucky's ear, having to lift the wig hair to see. "It's used for cold storage, and it's huge. Use this tracker," she handed him a pearl bracelet, "to locate the bomb. As long as you're within twenty-five feet, it'll be able to detect it."

"Got it." Bucky put on the pearl bracelet, then held out his arms in a pose. "So, how do I look?"

"Like a drag queen," Nat said proudly.

"Yeah." Clint chuckled. "Now sissy that walk."

"What?"

"Sissy that walk," Clint repeated. "Like this." He spun on his heel and flounced off in a dramatic fashion.

"Oh, right," Bucky said. "I do that all the time. I got this."

 

 

~

 

 

After gaining access to the dressing room as an amateur contestant (rude, Bucky thought, _nothing_ about him was amateur), he schmoozed briefly while scoping out other contestants and the event staff.

Pageants were big business, apparently, especially in Texas. Bucky just wanted to find where this alleged bomb was, take it out and then leave so he could untuck his junk.

"My dick hurts," he muttered into Comms. "The pain is real."

"Well, I'm sure Steve will kiss it better for you later," Natasha replied in his ear. "He just checked in, but he'll be offline for a while."

Bucky grunted in response. Steve was on a mission with Sam, T'Challa, and Okoye, probably wearing his Nomad suit and living a free and untucked life. It was alright for some.

"Any suspects so far?" Nat asked.

Bucky had situated himself by one of the make-up tables, pretending to powder his nose as he used the mirror to watch the room.

"Nothing yet," he said quietly. "My bet's on a staff member, not the contestants."

"We'll cover out front," Nat said. "You stay backstage and find out what you can."

"Roger," Bucky said, and turned to walk away. His ankle wobbled a little in the heels, though he managed to right himself before he had a mishap. He frowned to himself in annoyance, then flicked his hair back and strode off as best he could.

"Fuck this shit," he muttered darkly, slipping out into the empty hallway. "How does anyone walk in heels."

"Heel, toe," Natasha replied.

Bucky adjusted his steps per her instruction, wincing at the pain. That just hurt _more._

He persevered, and made his way down the halls, slipping past the staff entrances and the storage rooms. He had to duck into a store room to avoid the event coordinator, carrying a clipboard as she told her assistant it was time to get the curtain up.

Bucky waited for them to leave, then slipped away. He tapped on his earpiece to pick up on any radio chat nearby, but nothing.

Past the kitchens and further underground, in the cold storage halls, Bucky finally found someone looking shifty enough to warrant suspicion. One of the waitstaff, loitering by a cold tank in the far corner of the room and muttering quietly.

Bucky hid behind a refrigeration unit, and tapped his earpiece to pick up the signal.

 _Aha_ , he thought, as a string of Russian filtered into his ear. Bucky listened in, and picked out enough to understand that this guy was telling someone else to go plant the bomb.

Bucky touched the pearl bracelet at his wrist, activating the tracker, but nothing came up.

 _Dammit_.

He wasn't in range yet. And he hadn't heard where the bomb was being set. The show was due to start any minute, and Bucky couldn't wait. He quietly slipped off his heels, his stockinged feet touching the cool ceramic floor. He was about to leave the shoes there, then tested the weight of them in his hands.

_Well, why not?_

Bucky gripped the shoes tight around the middle, and crouched low as he crept closer to Bomb Terrorist Guy. He'd gone quiet, probably waiting for his partner to plant that bomb, Bucky thought.

That wasn't going to happen.

Bucky rushed him from behind, and cracked one platform shoe straight across the guy's head before he had a chance to look round.

He was knocked out cold. Those shoes were serious business. Bucky quickly removed the guy's earpiece, then used a zip-tie on his wrists and ankles.

"Romanov, Barton," he whispered into Comms, "got one jerk in the cold room tied up. I'm going to find the bomb."

"Go," Nat told him. "We're on our way."

Bucky picked up his shoes but didn't put them back on as he ran through the room and back into the halls. He took a left and his bracelet started beeping, so he ran faster.

Down the hall and into the room with the backup generator, Bucky crept along the wall as he spotted someone dressed as waitstaff, crouching down over something in the corner.

That had to be the bomb.

Bucky set his shoes down very quietly, and kept low as he ducked behind a generator tank for cover. He wouldn't be able to get close enough for the element of surprise, so Bucky changed tactics and looked for an angle where he could take a shot.

The guy began talking in Russian, and Bucky's earpiece fed it into his ear: _the bomb was set._

Bucky hiked up his dress, and pulled the gun from his garter. He peered around the tank and aimed his gun.

The target had clearly realised something was up when his comrade didn't reply, but Bucky didn't give him a chance to do anything: he shot him twice in the back. The target grunted, then flopped down on his side.

Bucky ran over there, keeping his gun trained on the target, two darts now sticking out his back. Bucky kicked the body with his foot.

"He's out cold," Bucky said into Comms, lowering his gun and taking off his corsage. "Disarming bomb... now." He set the defuser onto the home-made bomb, and let it do its thing.

"Come on," he urged, listening to it beep and tick its way through the sequence.

Within a few seconds, it beeped affirmative, and Bucky breathed out in relief.

"Bomb is disarmed," he confirmed.

"Great job," Nat replied. "Hill is on her way with the bomb disposal unit now, so you better get out of the way."

"Roger." Bucky put his gun back into his garter, and zip-tied the unconscious man so he'd be no further threat.

"Mission complete," Bucky said, picking up his heels and leaving the room. "Has the pageant started?"

"Uh, yes?" Clint replied in his ear. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to miss my slot, that's why," Bucky said, hurrying back along the halls. "I didn't let you guys dress me up like this just to fuck off home without showing it off first."

"You're so competitive," Nat responded, sounding amused. "If you hurry, you'll be able to strut down the runway."

"Awesome," Bucky said, then glanced down at the heels in his hands. "Good thing these shoes are red, because there's blood on one now."

 

 

~

 

 

When Steve and Sam flew the Quinjet back to the States, Steve checked in with Nat to see if they were done and needed picking up from the safehouse.

"Yes, we're done," she confirmed over the Comms, "but we're still at the event."

"And Barnes is drunk as fuck," Clint chimed in.

Sam started to laugh, but Steve shrugged. "Sounds like you guys had a good mission."

"This is the most fun I've had ever," Nat said, "but I think we unleashed a monster."

"A monster?" Steve didn't understand. "What does that mean?"

"You'll see," she said cryptically.

"Oh-kayy, then." Steve entered the co-ordinates for their location in Texas.

Luckily there were enough flat open spaces nearby to land the Quinjet and pick them up, escorted by Hill.

Steve pressed the button to lower the platform, and got up to go greet his teammates.

He heard Bucky before he saw him, and Steve broke into a smile because, yeah, Bucky did sound drunk. His serum wasn't the same as Steve's, and if he drank enough in a short space of time, he could stay drunk for a little while.

Bucky came careening up the platform in a red dress and no shoes on, wielding a shiny trophy around like a dangerous weapon.

"I fucking won!" he shouted, then promptly tripped over. Sam was closest, and managed to stop his fall.

"Nice wig," he commented, helping Bucky back up.

Bucky righted himself and grinned at him. "Sam, I won!"

"He won the amateur competition," Natasha clarified, as she and Clint came up the platform to join them.

"Next I'll enter the pros competition," Bucky drawled, and flung himself at Steve. "Twirl me, baby!"

Steve had to hold onto Bucky and stand firm before his momentum and sheer weight pulled them both down. "Hold on, why don't you let go of this," Steve tried to take the trophy from Bucky's hands, but Bucky clutched it tight to his chest.

"No, it's mine!"

"Okay, you hold onto it," Steve amended. "Why don't you come have a nap instead?"

"I need to pee," Bucky announced. "Someone's gotta help me out of all this drag!"

"Pass," Hill said, entering the Quinjet last. "I'll fly." She hurried off to the pilot's chair.

"Also pass," Sam said, following her.

Steve was busy holding Bucky upright, and slid his hand down to pat his boyfriend's ass. "Wow, your..." Steve looked down to check he wasn't imagining things. "Your ass has grown."

"I've got boobs too," Bucky said, pressing his ample chest against Steve's. "Seriously, Steve. I have to pee and my dick demands freedom."

"Can you please do all that somewhere that's not in front of us?" Sam called across the Quinjet.

"Alright, alright," Steve said, laughing. "C'mon, Buck. We'll go in the bathroom stall. We wanted to cross the mile high club off our to-do list anyway."

"Cool!" Bucky let Steve walk him over to the bathroom. "But I'm holding onto my trophy."

"Sure, Buck," Steve told him, "you can hold your trophy while I free your dick."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> Say, if anyone fancies drawing Bucky in one of the [miss congeniality movie poster](https://66.media.tumblr.com/25ce71c9246d58250d146d3e52356686/tumblr_ps679ltlCl1v86a0h_540.jpg) poses, that would be amazing, so drop me a line!!
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/jro616).
> 
> Btw if you like Bucky in drag, I have a [Shrunkyclunks fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349031) with drag queen Bucky too. :D


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